


The Mailman & the Wolf

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Frottage, M/M, True Love, True Love's Kiss, but they arent mentioned and dont make an appearance (at least not yet), derek is all sunshine bc his family isnt dead okay, fairytale AU, sort of...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 01:16:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Upon contact, there's a blinding flash of silver light and Stiles falls back in surprise, fingers not letting go of the chain fence. </p><p>Sitting there, stark naked, is quite possibly the most beautiful man Stiles has ever laid eyes on. "</p><p>Or in which Stiles is a mailman, dogs hate him, and there's a big, black wolf at the local animal clinic.</p><p>---<br/>Modern day fairytale AU (sort of)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This took me way too long to finish because I could not for the life of me figure out how to end it, but I finally managed to find direction. I REALLY JUST WANTED MAILMAN!STILES OKAY. What was supposed to be a quick and dumb oneshot became something that probably requires a second chapter OTL but let me know what you guys think! I'm putting it at 2 chapters because I probably won't be able to pull anything more than that out of myself, at least not for this au. 
> 
> Rating is G, but I'm really not sure how the second chapter will develop... Heh. So I can't guarantee the rating won't change.
> 
> My wonderful, amazing friend [Shortfellow](Shortfellow) volunteered to beta the first half for me. I LOVE HER S'MUCH. (also, i will take your suggestion of sexy times into consideration for chapter 2 heh heh heh)The second half is unbetad and well basically any mistakes left and whatever sucks is all me!
> 
> Finally, I'm terrible at titles and chapter titles, please bare with me. ; u;
> 
>  **ETA:** I meant to add this when I posted this but forgot! In my mind, Stiles' mailman uniform looks like [this](http://media.npr.org/assets/img/2013/02/20/156449391-1f8c93d6087b538ad8b9c973b7adb8ad2a0cf855-s6-c30.jpg) (but with pants during the rain ofc) and I guess the jacket would be like [this one](http://www.postaluniformsdirect.com/closeup.asp?cid=34&pid=176&offset=0) (and wow, these uniforms are hella expensive btw... yikes)

Stiles likes dogs. He really, _really_ does, but that doesn’t mean they like him back. Why? Because he's a mailman, and as much as he wishes he could deny the stereotype, so far it’s proven very much true. There’s not one dog in Beacon Hills that doesn’t bark at him when he’s making his rounds. Even Lydia’s “ _sweet”_  little Papillon, whom he’s known for ages, yips at him when he’s in uniform.  If he didn’t know any better, he’d think the uniform had supernatural properties or something.

But he totally doesn’t believe that crap because Stiles is _logical_.

The only exception (if you can call it that) would be the one at the animal clinic. Only, it’s not really a dog, at least not of the domesticated variety, but Stiles chooses to ignore that technicality for the sake of his own sanity.

The massive black wolf that lives in a small, outdoor enclosure attached to the side of the animal clinic has never once barked (wolves bark, Stiles Googled it, don’t fight him) at him. It’s never growled or howled or whatever other noises wolves can make at him. Not once.

It does, however, stare intently at Stiles whenever he approaches the mailbox next to the clinic’s door, seemingly tracking his every move. The first time was completely unsettling and had caught Stiles off guard. He’d stared down at his boots and stiffly sped up to and away from the box and into the safety of his mail truck in record time. When he had asked Scott about it, his best friend assured him the canine was harmless. “Oh, _Derek_. Yeah, he’s been there since before I started,” he shrugged, “Deaton rescued him or something. He’s cool.” Leave it to Scott to refer to a freakin’ _wolf_ simply as ‘cool’. 

After that, Stiles is less nervous and manages to stare straight back at the beast as he approaches the building while still maintaining his distance from the fence. He discovers the creature has beautiful, deep, hazel eyes… like stupidly beautiful. How do you even get a wolf like that? Part of Stiles still hopes he’s not looking at him as a potentially tasty morsel, but he never  finds hunger in the wolf’s eyes, simply what he can only describe as interest and curiosity. “Just so you know, I’m all skin and bone, I would taste horribly, like you would probably literally get nothing off me,” he comments for good measure as he slips letters into the metal box.

One day, the postman gathers all his courage and approaches the chain link fence, albeit cautiously, and squats to get a closer look. The wolf actually wags its tail while still maintaining its eyes fixed on Stiles. Thus began their new routine: Stiles pulling up, the wolf coming out of his den, Stiles dropping the mail in the box and walking over to the enclosure to greet him. If he has the time, Stiles talks with the wolf for a bit. He talks about anything and everything, as is his specialty, the wolf hanging onto his every word (at least in Stiles’ mind). It's crazy but he feels like the wolf listens. It feels like he _understands_.

 

 

He dares to touch Derek one day. “Hey Der, I’m… I’m gonna… If that’s okay, I mean. Okay?” Trembling fingers pass through one of the openings in the fence. Derek nuzzles his wet nose into his fingers with gentle ferocity. Maybe he _was_ hungry, for like human touch. Or maybe the wolf can smell the fries he’d had earlier. Stiles smiles, and the shaking of his hands stops.

“Cool,” he breathes.

 

The cold season kicks in.

Stiles pulls the hood of his uniform jacket closer around his face and slowly gets out of his truck, not bothering with an umbrella. He saunters up to the clinic door mechanically and sticks the mail in its box. He stares at nothing for a while, then makes his way back to the truck silently. Derek, who’d taken shelter under an eave of the building, comes out despite the rain and begins to whine at Stiles’ retreating figure. When he gets no response, he barks. Still nothing, he arches his neck towards the darkened sky and lets out a deep howl. This seems to snap Stiles out of his zombie-like state and he turns his attention in Derek’s direction. A weak side grin forces its way onto his face as he tentatively makes his way back to the fence. Linking his fingers to the fence, he looks down at Derek with near empty eyes. Stiles imagines the concerned look on the canine’s face in return.

"Hey Der... sorry I'm.... kind of out of it. Under the weather you could say, heh," he fidgets and chuckles weakly," it's just... kinda a bad time of the year... you know... um, the weather sucks, obviously. Which reminds me, shouldn't you go find shelter? Don't wanna catch a cold. Do wolves catch colds? I should ask Scott. Or just google it, I guess," he rambles.

 "So yeah, guess I'll… go, " he shifts his eyes to the side, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall. He's about to start walking away when Derek whines again. Stiles turns back to face the wolf. He's not sure how, but he knows Derek is telling him to stay. _Tell me what’s wrong_ , he imagines Derek saying. He sighs and squats down to Derek's eye-level. The wolf stares straight at him, and Stiles swears he's lifting his brow, ever so slightly, as if telling him to keep on talking. "I’m… it's just a tough time of the  year for me… and my dad... um...," he breathes in sharply, "my mom got sick around this time a couple of years ago and well it hasn't really been the same... it gets pretty tense between us two. Like, I can’t even breathe around the house. Well, I guess… it’s hard to breathe anywhere. The weather doesn't help either. Actually, it was just like this when.... when… it happened." 

He pauses, feeling the familiar sharp pang in his heart, and in a shuddering breathe whispers, " When we lost her." Stiles feels himself choke up and his eyes well up. Derek whines, nudging his nose against the fence. At this, Stiles musters a genuine smile, eyes shutting tight as tears begin to escape. He rests his forehead on the fence, looking at the floor, gripping the fence more firmly to balance. "I'm probably insane for feeling like you're _actually_ comforting me, but thank you..,” he looks up with dewy eyes, face pressed as close to the fence as he can in a surge of trust, "seriously, Derek, than—“  

At that moment, Derek's muzzle pokes through the fence and onto his mouth. Upon contact, there's a blinding flash of silver light and Stiles falls back in surprise, fingers not letting go of the chain fence.

Sitting there, stark naked, is quite possibly the most beautiful man Stiles has ever laid eyes on. The rain drips down his body (sculpted by the gods themselves, Stiles thinks despite himself, even Narcissus would take notice) and his jet black hair is matted down from the downpour.  Stiles’ wide eyes pan the rest of him, the man’s perfectly sculpted face framed in a perfect array of dark stubble that follows down beneath a beautifully chiseled jaw. And those _eyebrows_. Jesus. His eyes travel further down and--- _whoa, yeah, nope_ , _so not staring down there._ Stiles’ eyes snap back up to the mysterious man’s face.

Stiles manages a coherent (totally _not_   high-pitched) "Ummm." The man looks up at Stiles with an odd expression, then down at himself, exploring his hands. He then looks up again quickly, eyebrows high up towards his hairline, hazel eyes shining and he grips his own hands on Stiles' through the fence. Stiles, unable to pull away in spite of this what-the-actual-fuck moment, just stares, mouth agape.

"Stiles," the man says with conviction.

The corners of the man lips begin to turn up. His bright eyes flicker across Stiles’ face in disbelief. Eyes Stiles has seen before…

"D...?" Stiles stutters with uncertainty, “Derek?"

The man nods, finally allowing himself to smile fully. And, oh god, if anything could light up the entire world, it would be this guy’s fucking _smile_.

"I knew it. Stiles, I knew it! I... you did it. I hoped… no, I _knew_ it would be you."

"Wh... what?" Stiles says in a daze, flustered eyes looking down and away from those mesmerizing eyes only to realize (or rather, remember) the dude is still very, very nude. He hopes the ferocious blush he can feel flooding his entire body and the small noise he makes go unnoticed.

"Hold on, not like this. Stay there."

The man lets go and gets up, unabashed at the fact that he's naked (and Stiles so does not check out his perfect ass as he walks away, and if he does it's only because this is a seriously weird situation (and there is a naked man where a wolf used to be and just what the actual fuck is even going on?) Stiles stays glued to the fence as he hears the man (Wait… Derek? What?) knock on a door. He hears the door open followed by Deaton's voice, "So, finally managed to break it, Derek?" He hears nothing else but the closing door. A few minutes after, he hears the door to his left swing open and the ma— _DEREK_ —comes out in nothing but a pristine lab coat. He stays underneath the eave.

"Sorry, I would have been out quicker but Deaton insisted on… _this_ , " he says, pulling at the coat in distaste.

"Guess I forgot how to wear clothes," he mutters a bit darkly. He turns to his left and finally notices Stiles, still at the fence and facing Derek with a dumbstruck look on his face, rain drizzling down on him.

"Oh, you actually stayed _there_... Um, not what I meant but... " a slight blush is visible through the tan of his skin," can you… come over here? I'm afraid of getting this coat wet, and it would kind of defeat the purpose, since it’s white."

Stiles nods slowly and gets up, making his way towards Derek cautiously, keeping a slight distance between them. Once he’s within arm’s length, Derek reaches for his wrist and pulls Stiles’ form into his own, hugging him tightly and nuzzling into his neck.

"Thank you,” he whispers.

"Um, for what?"

"For breaking the curse."

"Um… What?"

"The curse… that turned me into a wolf. An actual one I mean."

Stiles doesn't understand the last part, but he does what he does best in any awkward situation and cracks a joke, "what, like Beauty and the Beast?"

Derek smiles into his shoulder.

"Yes. Or maybe more like The Princess and the Frog.”

Stiles pushes away from the firm body in front of him, receiving a hurt look from Derek. The mailman breaks eye contact and stares instead at the other man’s chest, now visible through the soaked coat and he’s about to make a comment about how hugging his very-wet self defeated the purpose of the covering anyway when he’s cut off by Derek.

“I was hoping it'd be you,” the man speaks in earnest, “Vivacious and charming… and beautiful."

Stiles is beyond every level of puzzled in the book, and possibly flattered, but mostly confused as hell.

"I'm sorry, but I'm like _seriously_ being thrown for a loop here, dude, and I have no idea what the fuck just happened ‘cause I was already going fucking crazy, talking to a damn wolf, and now you, this insanely model-hot guy that just popped out of nowhere, _fucking_ _naked I might add_ , is holding me and saying sweet things to me even though we _just_ met? And I'm just… _what even_?" he prattles and flails.

Derek shuts him up by pulling him back in and smashing his lips to Stiles’ in the most amazing chaste kiss ever. Stiles’ eyes flutter shut and he instinctively grips the fabric on Derek's back.

Derek breaks the kiss and looks at him straight , "We didn’t _just_ meet, Stiles. You’ve been talking to me for months now. And I’ve been listening. “

“Wha—“ Stiles manages through his slack mouth and stupor of confusion.

“Several years ago a witch that I refused to date transformed me into a wolf. A kiss, _your_ kiss, that’s what changed me back."

"True loves kiss," a voice says from behind them. They jump, neither having noticed Deaton open the door, "Would you boys like to come inside? Where it _isn't_ raining?"

Derek nods once and begins leading Stiles by the small of his back towards the door Deaton is holding open. Stiles barely registers moving until a clash of thunder resounds overhead and brings him back to reality.

"Shit, I'm still on the clock!” he blurts out, stopping suddenly. Both Derek and Deaton silently raise their eyebrows at him so he continues, “I… I can’t deal with this right now.” Derek’s eyebrows shift so that he looks like a kicked puppy. Stiles sighs, “I _mean_ … I cannot deal with this right _now_ , but… I _do_ want to hear what you have to say, even though I’m still freaked the fuck out, but um, yeah, I wanna know what this whole thing,” he gestures from the enclosure to Derek and back to himself, “is because as absolutely _insane_ as I feel, I am even more curious and once I’m curious about something there’s no ignoring the thing I am curious _about_ until I get all the answers to said curiosity, so, yeah, talk, we’ll do that, just not this minute because I have a job I need to finish and people are expecting their mail and if I don’t deliver, well, you can say goodbye to Stiles the Mailman because I will be unemployed and lose my apartment and live on the streets,” and oh god, why aren’t either of them stopping his babbling, “so yep, gotta run. I will talk to you. At a later time. Just not this minute. Yeah.”

Stiles promptly turns on his heel and makes his way to his truck in complete horror of the utter fool he just made of himself. The rain has stopped, but his boots make light splashes in the shallow puddles along the pathway. He almost makes it to his goal when a warm hand wraps around his wrist and tugs him to a halt.

“Stiles.”

Stiles turns around slowly, not meeting Derek’s eyes.

“Stiles, please look at me,” Derek says softly as he takes Stiles’ other wrist in his other hand. Stiles looks up shyly, eyes meeting Derek’s. Looking into the infinite shades of greens does things to Stiles. He feels his heart flutter and threaten to fly out so he swallows heavily. Derek tracks the movement of Stiles’ Adam’s apple as it moves down and back up, before looking up and speaking again in the same gentle tone, “Stiles, I’m so sorry if I scared you, but I promise I didn’t mean to. I would never… I understand you’re feeling shocked and confused, but I promise to explain everything again later. Is it okay if I stop by your apartment tonight? If you don’t mind? If not… I can ask Deaton if we can meet here, while he’s here, if you, you know, don’t feel safe being alone with me.”

Derek bites his lip but never breaks eye contact and Stiles is overcome with a feeling of unconditional trust. The same trust he’d developed between himself and the wolf. Derek’s eyes are open and earnest and the tension Stiles had felt leaves him and he shakes his head and gives Derek a small smile. “Nah, it’s cool… Um, I think I can trust you. Just ask Deaton to ask Scott for my address, okay?”

Derek’s entire expression lights up and it’s like the gloomy atmosphere around them suddenly brightens and Stiles is in awe of the beauty that is the other man’s smile.

“Okay,” Derek agrees. He leans in and Stiles braces himself for a kiss on the lips (and he finds that he really wouldn’t mind one, if he’s being honest), but it never comes. Instead, Derek’s lips land on his cheek. The stubble tickles and Stiles can’t help the small giggle that escapes him. Derek pulls back and looks at Stiles in such a fond way that it makes him blush and clear his throat.

“Okay, cool. Alright, well, I really gotta go now, dude. I’ll see you later.”

Derek finally releases his hands, and both men turn their separate ways. Once he’s behind the wheel of the mail truck, Stiles chances a glance at the front of the animal clinic. Derek’s standing at the door and looking in Stiles direction. He manages a smile and a small wave, both of which Derek returns, before turning back to start his vehicle and drive off.

Throughout the rest of his shift, Stiles thinks about everything that happened. The entire time, he feels like he’s floating through an alternate universe. The fluttering of his heart reappears every time he remembers Derek’s brilliant smile. The closer to the end of his shift he gets, the more nervous he becomes. He vaguely recalls Derek explaining something about kisses and witches, but honestly, he’d been too in shock to really grasp anything. So yeah, he has no idea what the hell happened, but he’s getting the answers tonight and, more than anything, the fact that he’s going to be seeing Derek again has him all jittery.

But as unsure as Stiles is in regards to the entire wolf-turned-man situation, the one thing he _is_ sure of is that he _wants_ to see Derek again. And possibly kiss the heck out of him. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles comes back to his apartment to find Derek waiting. They talk about what happened at the animal hospital and stuff happens (including but not limited to kissing).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to finish this before New Years, but alas, my writers block is worse than my art block. 
> 
> A few notes:  
> -Rating change! Because I managed to write a bit of sexy times \o/  
> -Derek's eyes turn yellow because Paige never happened in this verse.  
> -Completely unbeta'd, although I did go over it several times, but if you see anything glaring let me know in the comments, thanks!

The full reality of the day’s events doesn’t really sink in until Stiles comes back from work and drives his Jeep into its designated parking space. He shuts off the engine but sits for a moment, eyes glued to the steering wheel. The silence, aside from the light pitter patter of the rain as it hits the roof of the parking structure, allows him to lose himself in his thoughts. He mentally replays the incident at Deaton’s (with some added finesse and emphasis on Derek’s face and body because Stiles’ memory is a cruel enabler) over and over.

After some thought, he comes to the conclusion that he really _should_ be a lot more freaked out about the entire situation. Instead he’s inexplicably nervous, like the kind of nervous he used to be in high school whenever he approached Lydia. _Only_ _worse_.

This stranger (although he’s starting to accept that _maybe_ Derek isn’t a _total_ stranger afterall, as strange as he may be; but, hey, who is Stiles to judge a person’s strangeness?) is totally into him. Voluntarily wants to hold him. Thinks he’s “ _beautiful and vivacious_ ”. Which, again, should freak him out, but it’s turned him into some kind of romcom heroine instead. 

 _Unless this is all some asshole’s idea of an elaborate joke,_ Stiles thinks to himself and that brings on an entirely new wave of nerves. Stiles shakes his head and puts his hand on the door handle. “Okay, Stiles,” he mutters to himself, “Even if this _is_ some kinda prank, you’re the king of laughing shit off, so just do that. Laugh along, and hey, you got a hug from a smokin’ hot, naked man today, not a totally bad day for you. Pretty fucking fantastic, actually!” With that he nods and makes his way out of the vehicle.

The bitter cold outside does little to numb the nerves fluttering around inside him and it’s really only making the shaking in his knees and hands worse. At least he can play it off as the cold if anyone asks.

The rain’s let up enough that he forgoes an umbrella so he heads to his building with his head down, hood on and hands tucked deep into the pockets of his hoodie seeking warmth.  He doesn’t look up until he reaches the stairs on the side of the building leading up to his front door. He’s only a few steps from the landing when he sees the slouched figure by his doorstep and nearly misses a step in surprise. He manages to save his dignity and not brain himself by grabbing onto the railing, but his heart speeds up like crazy the moment Derek looks up with half-lidded eyes and a lazy smile, and if the man looks hot when completely awake (and naked) well he looks positively _adorable_ when he’s sleepy. Stiles bites his lip and stands awkwardly at the top of the steps.

“H-hey,” he says through a dry mouth and chattering teeth. Derek smiles wider up at him and Stiles notices the pair of slight buck teeth, and _wow, yeah, Stiles is screwed beyond help because this dude is the cutest thing to ever live._

“Hey,” Derek says, “Welcome home.” Stiles feels a warmth in his heart at Derek’s words and he thinks that hearing them on a daily basis would be the greatest thing ever, which is probably not something he should be thinking about considering he’s only just met the man ( _really_ met him) today.

Stiles  realizes he’s still just standing there, looks away from Derek, and finally steps forward to the door, pulling his keys out.

“Sorry, I hope you weren’t waiting long? Aren’t you cold? I’m freezing, hence all the, uh,” he mutters, fumbling with the keys, unsteady fingers gripping the cold metal, “shaking.”

A warm hand comes from behind Stiles and covers his gently. He hadn’t even noticed Derek get up.

“No, I wasn’t waiting long,” Derek says, breathe hot next to Stiles’ ear, sending a wave of electricity through the young man’s body. Derek helps steady Stiles’ hand and turn the key in the lock. Stiles opens the door inward and steps in to hold it open for the other man.

“Th-thanks! Come on in,” he tells him. Derek nods and steps into the threshold. Stiles tracks him as he comes in, appreciating the view along the way.

Derek’s fully clothed now, of course, but his clothes fit a little tightly across his form, like they’re a size or two too small, which really only serves to emphasize his muscles. His dark, army green crewneck sweater rides up the wrists and the color beautifully compliments his dark features. The dark jeans he’s wearing are so borderline-criminal in the way they magnificently hug Derek’s ass that Stiles briefly considers calling his dad to arrest them.

Stiles leads Derek into his living room and gestures him to take a seat on the worn-out couch. Derek sits and looks up at Stiles expectantly.

“Can I… offer you anything to drink? Like coffee… or hot tea?” he says rather than joining Derek on the couch.

The edges of Derek’s mouth quirk before he replies, “Sure, some hot tea, thank you.”

Stiles nods and hurries off to the tiny kitchen around the corner. He pulls his hoodie off and tosses it unceremoniously on the little kitchen table. He fills a teapot (shaped like a wolf—a gift from Lydia a while back after he’d rambled on and on about his “cool as hell friendship with that wolf at Deaton’s”, which now officially makes it the most ironic thing in Stiles’ possession) and sets it on the stove. Once the water is steaming, he pulls out two ceramic mugs from the cupboard above and fills them. Mentally cursing himself for not asking Derek what kind of tea he wants, Stiles takes a variety of tea packets with him, a mug in each hand, back to the living room.

Derek’s sitting with his hands folded in his lap when Stiles enters the room and places the mugs on the tiny coffee table. “I didn’t know what kind of tea you liked so I just brought, like, everything I have,” he says, tossing the packets in the center of the table.

 Derek takes a chamomile. “Thanks, this is good,” he says, briefly glancing up at Stiles and smiling fondly as he looks away, tearing the packet and dropping the teabag into his mug.

Stiles takes a seat next to Derek, leaving comfortable amount of space between them but not so far away that he’d seem standoffish. He reaches for a white peach tea packet and prepares his own cup.

“So..,” Stiles trails off, licking his lips and turning to look at Derek shyly. Derek shoulders seem tense and  Stiles realizes for the first time that Derek is probably a little nervous, too.

“So..,” Derek says, “what do you want to know?”

Stiles stays silent for a moment. “I don’t know… _everything_?”

Derek’s jaw sets tightly before he nods. “Well it’s a long, crazy story, honestly…”

“Dude, I’m pretty sure after today ‘crazy’ has lost all meaning in my life.”

Derek smirks and his body relaxes more. “True.”

When Derek doesn’t make a move to say much more, Stiles starts getting fidgety. “Okay, how about I ask a few questions first? Because I’m literally vibrating in my seat here so if I don’t ask something like _now_ I might just go mad or explode or something, okay?”

 Derek nods, eyes shining in amusement.

 “Cool. Okay, so, first off, where’d you get clothes? Like do you live around here? I assume you do, because I don’t think Deaton’s clothes would fit that snuggly on you. Not that I, you know _, checked you out or anything_. Because I really did not, if that’s what you’re thinking. Seriously. Nope.” Stiles says, not really pausing between sentences and mentally slapping his palm on his face.

Derek raises his eyebrows and smirks again. “Well, I got these from home, so yes, I live around here, just in the outskirts of Beacon Hills to be exact. These clothes are kind of small because the last time I wore them I was some nineteen year old brat but it’s been five years since then.”

Stiles stares at him. “Okay. But why haven’t you been home for so long? I mean, if you were on a trip or something, you’d have clothes with you. So…”  Honestly, Stiles knows why, but the reason is still just so unbelievable he has to ask anyway. Derek probably knows he knows because he smiles and rolls his eyes.

 “Stiles, you know why.”

A light pink flush spreads across Stiles’ cheeks. “Well… I know, _that_ reason, but it… it still sounds _so_ —“

“— _crazy_?” Derek finishes for him, mocking tone and raising a single brow.

Stiles scoffs. “Well, _yeah.”_

“I thought crazy lost all meaning.”

“I… Alright, you got me there, but no, I don’t actually _know_ , because frankly whatever the fuck happened earlier was a fucking shock to my entire system and honestly I’m still thinking this is all a fever-induced dream and I’m off in some dark alley dying pitifully alone in the rain.”

Derek laughs heartily and Stiles thinks it’s possibly the most beautiful sound in the world. Stiles realizes he finds a lot of things about Derek to be the best thing ever but his smile is probably his favorite. Oh god, he’s so gone on this dude and it hasn’t even been an entire day.

“You’re unbelievable,” Derek declares after regaining most of his composure.

“ _Me_? _I’m_ unbelievable? Dude, you’re the one who was a _freaking_ _wolf,_ all fur and claws and teeth, emphasis on the ‘ _was’_  because apparently said wolf has _magically_ turned into a freaking human! And you’re calling _me,_ normal human, unbelievable!”  

“See, you _do_ know why,” Derek says smugly.

“I… uh… crap. Okay, but that still doesn’t really explain… _everything_.”

Derek shakes his head in fond exasperation.“Alright. Let’s start with my full name is Derek Hale. I—“

“Oh. Shit. You… you’re Derek _Hale_ ,” Stiles eyes widen and he runs his fingers through his hair once, causing tufts of it to stick up at odd angles.

Derek looks at him, eyes evoking a mix of surprise and curiosity. “Yes. Does that mean anything?”

“NO! I mean… yes, but..,” Stiles blush intensifies and he runs his hand over his head a few more times before answering. He gestures wildly as he tries to explain. “It’s just, you sort of disappeared back then? I… I remember my dad and his deputies looking for you until your family called off the search. Apparently, you’d called and said you were off to New York or something. But yeah, the whole town was abuzz with the ‘Runaway Hale’ gossip for several weeks.”

There is absolutely _no_ way Stiles is going to admit to Derek fucking Hale the small crush he’d had on him during his sad, first year of high school. Derek had been a senior and paid even less attention to Stiles than Lydia, which was saying something.

He’s honestly not sure how he hadn’t even realized it until now. Sure, it’s been five years since he last saw Derek; five years where Derek’s basically been _missing_ , so obviously he looks different. His presence is more mature and grounded now, too, but underneath it all he has the same piercing eyes and the same charming smile—things that would make a then thirteen-year-old Stiles gape stupidly from afar and crash into open lockers. So yeah, no telling Derek now, or ever; he does not need the humiliation, thank you very much.

Derek doesn’t prod further and continues, “Well, my parents _thought_ I was missing. I was nineteen years old. Graduated with great grades and tons of friends. I had a basketball scholarship to a great university. I felt on top of the world. I was cocky and I felt superior to everyone. So one day this older woman hits on me and being the little shit that I was, I turned her down in the shittiest way possible. I basically publically humiliated her.”

Derek purses his lips at the memory. “Unfortunately for me, she was, of all things, a witch. And she knew about me and transformed me into a wolf. It wasn’t until a few days later that I wound up at Deaton’s and he let my family know. They agreed to let me stay there for my own good. It was a really crappy spell, according to Deaton. The generic fairytale variety… Lucky for me in the long run.  I honestly thought I’d stay that way forever, though. Until I met you.”

Stiles blushes. “Wait… your family was just… _cool_ with the whole thing?”

 “Oh. Well. We’re… I’m sort of..,” Derek stalls, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, “a werewolf to begin with.”

Stiles stares at him with an unreadable expression.

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“So… you’re a werewolf.”

“Yeah.”

“As in… uh, wolfy-ness on  full moons and stuff.”

“Uh… sort of, yes. Here I’ll show you.”

Derek’s eyes flash yellow and he grows fangs as his face shifts, brow bone protruding out further. His sideburns thicken and his ears grow pointed.

“Whoa,” Stiles whispers, unable to say anything else.

Derek shifts back and looks at Stiles, calculating his reaction.

“That’s… hilarious.”

“What?”

 “The witch knew you were a werewolf and turned you into an _actual_ wolf. That’s actually hilarious,” Stiles exclaims, half smile forming on his lips.

Derek snorts and rolls his eyes. “More like ironic. You’re taking the werewolf thing better than everything else.”

“Well, for some reason it’s more believable? Or something. And kinda fucking cool. Would explain how amazingly athletic you were in high school. _Had_ to be supernatural.”

“You… you remember me in high school?”

Stiles eyes widen in realization of what he just said. _Him and his stupid, big mouth._ “Uh… _NO_. I mean… Shit.”

Derek shifts closer into Stiles’ space, an arm bracing the couch behind the younger man. Stiles refuses to look at him directly until Derek brings his other hand slowly and gently up to Stiles’ cheek and turns his face. Stiles’ eyes flutter shut, unable to look at Derek lest he suffer cardiac arrest from his already out of control heart beating in his chest. He leans into the warm hand despite himself as Derek runs his thumb soft, tiny circles across Stiles’ cheekbones.

“Stiles.”

Stiles’ eyes tighten, embarrassment engulfing him and god, he wishes he had more control over his own words.

“Stiles, look at me.”

He hesitantly begins to open his eyes, peeking through his lashes, and finds Derek staring at him, expression full of hope and affection, granting him a spur of courage. Derek won’t judge him, not on this.

“Yes, I remember. I… I watched you,” he replies softly.

Derek beams, and Stiles returns the smile this time, leaning in as he does so, and placing a chaste kiss to Derek’s lips. Derek looks simultaneously surprised and in awe when Stiles pulls away. Derek’s hand moves swiftly to the back of Stiles’ head, just above his neck, and pulls the younger man towards him until their mouths find each other once again. The kiss is just as chaste as the first but lasts longer. Derek breaks the kiss, resting their foreheads together. “I wish… I wish I’d known you back then. I’m sorry. I wasn’t…”

“It’s okay,” Stiles interjects, scoffing at his own memory of himself back then, “Kinda glad you didn’t. Notice me, that is, what with all the flailing and tripping and general awkwardness. I mean, it’s still… I’m still all of that, but not as bad, so yeah, it’s okay.”

“I’m sure it was as charming then as it is now. I’m mad at myself for being so self-involved before. But we’re here now. I guess the curse is a blessing. It brought me to you.”

Stiles snorts. “God, I feel like I’m some damsel in a fucking fairytale.”

“Nah, I think that would make _me_ the damsel, since your kiss rescued me.”

“That works, too,” Stiles responds before initiating the kissing once more.

They begin with sweet, chaste kisses, smiling into each one as their lips come together. Derek moves to nip along Stiles’ jaw, and when he reaches the sensitive area behind his ear, Stiles’ breath hitches and a shiver rushes through his body.

Derek takes the cue and pulls back only to capture Stiles’ lips once more, this time with more intensity. Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s neck, nipping at the man’s bottom lip and finally opening his mouth and deepening the kiss. Their tongues meet and explore, heat rushing through them both.

Stiles pushes Derek back and moves to straddle the man’s lap. Derek rubs his hands up and down Stile’s side, then reaches further down to grab at Stiles’ ass to pull him further in. Stiles begins grinding his hips down in tiny thrusts. Their trapped erections rub against each other and Derek groans, his other hand moving to firmly grasp the other man’s hip. Stiles breaks the kiss to move his head to Derek’s shoulder and quickens his pace, each thrust sending a surge of electricity from his erection throughout his entire body.

“Derek… shit… I’m so fucking close..,” Stiles gasps into Derek’s ear.

“Me too, “ Derek pants.

Stiles sucks and nips the underside of Derek’s jaw then he whispers the man’s name into his ear. Derek gasps, his own hips thrusting up to meet Stiles’.  He stills beneath Stiles, his grip on Stiles’ hips tightening as he comes.  Stiles lets his forehead drop to Derek’s shoulder as he thrusts his hips a few more times.

“Fuck,” he manages shakily as he comes, too.

He slumps forward, draping himself over Derek and resting his chin Derek’s shoulder, letting the man take his weight. They don’t speak immediately; their breathing evening out as they come back from their stupor. Derek rubs his hand up Stiles’ back and nuzzles his nose into the crook of Stiles’ neck.

Stiles sighs happily. “That was awesome.”

Derek hums in agreement. Stiles turns to kiss Derek’s neck then pulls back hastily, looking down at him and frowning.

“That wasn’t… You don’t think that was too soon, right?”

 Derek looks up at him through thick lashes. “No,” he tells him without hesitation, “Do you?”

“Psht, I pretty much confessed my high school crush on you. That felt like a childhood dream come true, so that would be a heck no from me, definitely not too fast,” Stiles replies, lips curling into a playful smirk.  

“Good, same here,” Derek says before tilting his head up to capture Stiles’ lips once more. Stiles sighs happily into the kiss, completely undone and satisfied.

\----

Later that night, when they’re both curled up in Stiles’ bed, Derek sound asleep and wrapped around him, breathing softly against his neck, Stiles thinks of werewolves and magic spells and how, if those exist, fate might just exist, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This chapter ended up shorter than I thought because I ended up finding some things unnecessary. I kind of want to write Derek reuniting with his family (not that they never visited him in his wolf form but y'know) or meeting Scott, but as of now I'm not really planning on it. 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are much loved!  
> Hit me up on [tumblr](http://boy--wolf.tumblr.com) to fangirl about gay werewolves or something IDK

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading, seriously! This is my second attempt at dabbling in the world of writing, and I'm really not very good, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. Comments and kudos are always welcome.
> 
> Also, here's my [ tumblr](http://boy--wolf.tumblr.com/) if you're interested.


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